


delicate

by cinnamonlove



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Rule 63, sapphics get behind me!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonlove/pseuds/cinnamonlove
Summary: Professional athletes were not distracted by the lush and silky look of their teammate’s hair, or the stretch of skin visible when she bent over to adjust a kneepad.Kiyoomi has a very inconvenient crush on her teammate.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 53
Collections: Sakuatsu Fluff Week 2021 <3





	delicate

Kiyoomi had known for years that Miya Atsumu was the starting setter of the MSBY Black Jackals, but as she stood in the line of new recruits, wringing her hands nervously, she still found her eyes glued to Atsumu with an all too familiar churning in her stomach. 

Atsumu greeted Kiyoomi warmly, shaking her hand and clapping her on the shoulder. Kiyoomi hoped her palms weren’t sweating. When Atsumu walked off, smiling and laughing with the other members of the team, Kiyoomi watched the swish of golden locks in her ponytail with the same adoration one would a summer sunset. 

Professional athletes were not distracted by the lush and silky look of her teammate’s hair, or the stretch of skin visible when she bent over to adjust a kneepad, and that’s why Kiyoomi made sure to keep her focus razor sharp for the duration of her first practice. She jumped for every spike with perfect form, squatted into receive after receive until the burning in her legs left her gasping for breath. But it was worth it, she supposed, when her teammates cheered and held up their palms for high fives after only two sets. 

“Good game, yeah?” 

Atsumu grinned up at Kiyoomi where they sat on the bench just outside the court, cooling off after stretches. Kiyoomi twisted the cap on her water bottle, and nodded in agreement. Atsumu sighed happily, and leaned back against the wall behind them. They sat close enough that Kiyoomi could feel her body heat, spiked high after the adrenaline of their practice match. If Kiyoomi moved over even an inch, their shoulders would be touching. 

She hummed, and waved a hand to the scoreboard they had yet to take down. 

“Well, my team beat yours by an embarrassing amount of points. So yeah, I guess you could say that,” Kiyoomi deadpanned. 

Atsumu blinked at her, and burst out laughing. Her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and chest heaving with each sharp intake of breath. She looked like delight personified, all rosy cheeks and shiny, white teeth. Kiyoomi looked away, overcome by a feeling she had spent too many years trying to stamp down. 

“You seem so stoic, but you’re kind of hilarious, aren’t you, Omi-chan?” Atsumu’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and Kiyoomi felt her neck burn under the intensity of that gaze. “You know, we never talked much in high school, even though our teams played each other a lot. Let’s be friends. I think I’d really like to get to know you.” 

The only reason they’d sparsely interacted in high school was that Kiyoomi would freeze up and run away any time Atsumu was within a ten meter vicinity. But things were different now, and Kiyoomi had grown up quite a bit. She wasn’t as awkward around pretty girls as she had been before. And being friends with Atsumu sounded better than a dream. 

“Okay,” she said cautiously, lips curling into a smile to match Atsumu's. “I’d like that.”

  
  


—

  
  


Wakatoshi-chan made it look so easy. What was Kiyoomi doing wrong?

She panted, open-mouthed, leaning over with her hands on her knees. This new spike technique was more difficult to get down than she’d thought it would be, but just a few more hits, and she would have it. 

“It’s late, Omi-chan,” Atsumu’s voice, thick and sweet as honey, floated its way to Kiyoomi from the gym doors. “Don’t overwork yourself now, I need my favorite spiker in her best condition.”

“I’m fine, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi rasped out, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. “It’s barely been fifteen minutes.”

“It’s been over forty, dummy,” Atsumu said dryly. Kiyoomi heard her footsteps echo off the gym walls, and turned around to face her. Atsumu stood spinning a volleyball in her hand, smirking at Kiyoomi. 

“I’ll let you try it out one more time, but this time you’ll hit my set, okay?” She said, and Kiyoomi nodded. Atsumu gestured for her to get into position, and Kiyoomi did. When Atsumu tossed the ball up in a high, wide arc, Kiyoomi fixed her eyes on it, watching the ball spin up and closer to her side of the court. She took a running start, jumped, and hit the ball when it had landed directly in front of her palm. 

The reverberating smack sent a thrum of satisfaction through Kiyoomi’s limbs, despite how heavy and aching they were. It was perfect. 

“How’d you do it?” She asked, whirling around to where Atsumu stood confidently with a hand on her hip. 

“Because I know you so well,” Atsumu said, smirking, with pride swimming in her bright eyes. “Those wrists take care of the rest, but let me handle the setup.” Atsumu took a step closer and grabbed Kiyoomi’s hand, her thumb stroking over the pale skin of Kiyoomi’s wrist. “I’ve been waiting to use these bad bitches for years now, you know. Fancy plays like that require more than your individual skill. Trust me as your setter to get the ball to you, and we’ll make miracles together.”

Kiyoomi didn’t dare look down to where their hands intertwined. She shot Atsumu a smile back. 

“I don’t doubt it.” 

  
  


—

  
  


Kiyoomi frowned down at the new message on her phone, confusion and surprise causing a stir in the pit of her stomach. 

Atsumu: omi-chan!!! come over to my place this weekend!! 

They'd been texting a lot more frequently lately. For the first few weeks since Kiyoomi joined the Jackals, the only thing Atsumu had ever messaged her for was to tell Meian she would be late to practice. But now that it had been a few months in, it seemed like Atsumu texted her every singular thought that entered her mind. What she wanted for lunch, which movies her family loved to watch, the asshole that stole her weights at the gym—Kiyoomi was privy to it all. She felt a little special, honestly, to be the person that Atsumu wanted to tell everything to. 

Kiyoomi: Why?

Atsumu: what do u mean, why?!??! we’re celebrating shouyou-chan’s birthday on saturday and i need to give u an atsumu-sempai special makeover!! <3<3<3

Atsumu: and i know for a FACT that you need something party appropriate to wear 

Kiyoomi: I own clothes

Atsumu: not for clubbing -_- the only thing ive seen u wear besides ur uniform is that black university hoodie!! id bet 20000 yen that ur wearing it rn 

Kiyoomi winced, sparing a quick glance to the black university hoodie she was, in fact, currently wearing. 

Kiyoomi: Fine. Text me your address. 

Kiyoomi set her phone back down on her bedside table and repeatedly corrected the tiny voice in her mind that it wasn’t a date. 

—

“Look up, look up,” Atsumu instructed, moving the mascara brush to Kiyoomi’s upper lashes, stroking up in sweeping, delicate flicks. 

“It’s itching my eyeball,” Kiyoomi complained, but obediently cast her gaze up towards Atsumu’s bathroom ceiling, relieved that she had a reason to avoid looking at the girl only a breath away from her face. 

Atsumu had finished her own makeup before Kiyoomi had arrived, and Kiyoomi couldn’t stop herself from sneaking glances at her, dolled up and preened to perfection. Her skin glowed and her doe eyes looked exaggerated in size from the clean cut liner and smoky eyeshadow donning her lids. Kiyoomi's eyes traced the delicate curves of her jaw, her cupid’s bow, and the flushed color on her cheeks. Kiyoomi could look at her for hours. It was a bit upsetting to see how powder hid the freckles dotting her nose and cheekbones, but it was a small price to pay. 

“You wouldn’t feel anything if you kept still!” Atsumu scolded, and put the mascara away. She rummaged through her makeup bag and pulled out a tube of lipstick. A vaguely familiar lipstick. Kiyoomi squinted at it. 

“That’s mine, you thieving liar,” Kiyoomi bit out. She’d been looking for it for weeks—it was the only piece in her makeup collection, before she brought it along to practice and lost it in the locker room. Atsumu had denied knowing anything, the sneaky bitch. 

“Okay, so maybe I did take it! But you never put on makeup, so how was I supposed to know you’d even notice it was gone?” Atsumu popped the top off, and swirled the tube across her lips. Kiyoomi didn’t think Atsumu needed to apply anything to her lips, which were already a plush and gleaming pink. But she couldn’t deny the stir of excitement at seeing Atsumu puff her lips out, mouth slightly agape. “I’ll buy you another one or whatever!”

“Why can’t you just give me back my own?” Kiyoomi rolled her eyes, and grabbed the makeup bag lying on the bathroom sink, shaking it in front of Atsumu’s nose. “You have like—a million other shades in here.” 

“But I like this one,” Atsumu said with a pout. Kiyoomi raised a recently touched-up brow. Atsumu sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. What about from now on we share? Matching lipstick with your best friend.” She grinned like it was the best idea in the world, and held the tube up a few inches from Kiyoomi’s bottom lip. Kiyoomi stared down at it, cross-eyed. Her heart skipped a treacherous beat, pulse speeding up as the mental image of where that tube had just been flashed through her mind. 

Atsumu took her silence as consent, and swiped the tube over both of Kiyoomi’s lips. Kiyoomi inhaled sharply, her eyes flickering up to Atsumu’s face. Atsumu was staring back at her too, a curious glint in her eyes that Kiyoomi couldn’t quite place. She didn’t dare to try and name it. 

Atsumu tore her gaze away, and stuck her hand in her makeup bag once more. “One more final touch! I’ve been saving the best for last, of course.” She shook a silver hair clip in her hand, the end decorated with two tiny, metallic stars. “I’ve had this for a long time, but it doesn't stand out with my blonde hair.” 

“Is that all for my hair? Just a clip?” Kiyoomi nodded to the array of gel products, curlers, and a diffuser and blow dryer set scattered on the counter. 

“I mean, I don’t really need to do anything because you’re—you know,” she gestured vaguely to Kiyoomi’s face. No, Kiyoomi didn’t know. And she desperately wanted to ask Atsumu what, exactly, she was referring to, but the words caught in her throat. She remained silent while Atsumu settled the pin into the side of her head, sweeping up Kiyoomi's fringe into the silver stars. 

“Anyway, you’re all done! Take a look in the mirror if you want. I did an  _ exceptional  _ job, if I say so myself,” Atsumu said cheerfully, getting to her feet. She moved into her bedroom, and Kiyoomi quickly snapped her neck to stare at the wall when she saw that Atsumu was changing. It felt too intimate compared to seeing her in a locker room, surrounded by Atsumu’s home decor and belongings. 

“I bought a new dress for the party, but I didn’t try it on beforehand, so I have no idea how it looks!” Kiyoomi turned back when the rustling of cloth ceased, and promptly gaped at Atsumu, posing in the doorway. 

Scarlet silk draped over Atsumu’s delicate skin, ruching and stretching over each dip and swell of her body. One spaghetti strap dangled carelessly over one shoulder, and heat burst through Kiyoomi as her eyes dragged down and caught on a slit running along Atsumu’s thigh. When Atsumu shifted on her feet, the fabric pulled across the meat of her thigh, and Kiyoomi feared it would tear the more Atsumu moved around. 

The sight sent her head spinning. 

“So, what do you think? Too much?” Atsumu spinned, showing off all curves and edges. The delicate lace trim lining the bottom flared out like wings in flight, and Kiyoomi stared at the blur of red wordlessly. It occurred to Kiyoomi that she and Atsumu were headed to a party soon, where she would watch, nursing a water by the bar while Atsumu would probably be mingling with strangers on the dancefloor. 

“Omi-chan? You’re awfully quiet,” Atsumu said, brow creasing. 

In other words, Kiyoomi was in deep shit. 

—

If Kiyoomi thought it would be painful to see a tipsy, handsy Atsumu cling to a random stranger, it was even worse when Atsumu threw back one too many shots and climbed into Kiyoomi’s lap, giggling against the shell of her ear. 

Every muscle of Kiyoomi’s body was tight with tension, hands frozen where they hovered over Atsumu’s hips. Atsumu’s hips, which were pressed flush against Kiyoomi’s stomach. Another issue was Atsumu’s thighs—slung over the sides of Kiyoomi’s—warm, soft, and strong. She flung her arms around Kiyoomi’s shoulders and swayed back and forth, her balance still fucked up by all the drinks she’d had. Her hands trailed from Kiyoomi’s shoulders to her hair, fingertips ghosting over the outline of Kiyoomi chin-length bob. 

“Your hair’s gorgeous,” Atsumu murmured, the heat of her breath sending sparks across Kiyoomi’s face. “And you don’t even put anything in it. God, it should be illegal to look this good,” Atsumu twirled another lock through her fingers. Kiyoomi felt the gentle tugs on her scalp and swallowed thickly. 

Complimenting each other was normal for friends. Although Kiyoomi never really had any close female friendships growing up, mostly sticking to Motoya’s side in school and avoiding people in general during university, she knew this for a fact. And Atsumu was no exception. Kiyoomi often rolled her eyes whenever Atsumu would sing praises for their teammates’ hair, boobs, or clothes. Hinata and Bokuto did this too, hyping up practically every girl they’d meet and embellishing her beauty and strength.

“You’re drunk, Atsumu. Why don’t I go get you some water?” She rubbed circles on Atsumu's back, slowing when her fingers met bare skin instead of silk. 

“No, no, no. Stay here with me, Omi-Omi." Atsumu gripped Kiyoomi's shoulders again, and leaned in to settle her face into Kiyoomi's neck. Her soft exhale left goosebumps spreading across Kiyoomi's skin. 

“You really should be getting home, Atsumu." 

“Don’t wanna.” Atsumu laughed, and lifted her head up an inch. “Unless you're gonna come back with me,” she crooned, a little too loud for how close she was to Kiyoomi's ear. 

"I can drop you off at your apartment, no problem. It's on my way home anyways."

Atsumu groaned. "Ugh, why do you always have to be so responsible?" Kiyoomi chuckled. 

"I'm gonna take you home now, so no misbehaving, got it?" She grabbed both of their purses from the table, trying to think of a way to get Atsumu off her lap without having her trip. 

"Ooh, do I get a reward for being good?" Atsumu teased, waggling her eyebrows. 

Kiyoomi blinked. "Yeah, sure," she said lightly, and reached into her purse to pull out a thin, gold chain. 

“Here," she said, dropping the chain into Atsumu's hand. "For you."

"A necklace?" Atsumu peered at it curiously. 

"Yeah. I wanted to get friendship bracelets, but those things are actually really uncomfortable on my wrist." She grimaced, realizing it wasn't a very good explanation. "And then I thought about matching rings, but—uh—I assumed your fingers would be too sensitive to be wearing something like that all the time. Setter hands, you know?" Kiyoomi took a peek at Atsumu's blank expression, and her gut tightened. She looked down. "So, um. I got us necklaces."

"It's half of a heart," Atsumu said, more breath than sound. The charm attached to the chain glittered under the strobe lights of the club. 

"Yeah, and I have the other one, see? It's supposed to show that—"

"That together we're one, complete heart," Atsumu finished. Her hand curled around the necklace, and Kiyoomi finally glanced up to gauge Atsumu's reaction again. Fat, droopy tears leaked out of her eyes and down her cheeks. 

"Oh no," Kiyoomi cried, panic thrumming through her veins. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Atsumu—I can take them back, they were only like a thousand yen—"

"No! I'm keeping it forever!" Atsumu pulled her fist to her chest, and shot Kiyoomi a sharp glare. 

"Then why the hell are you crying?"

"Because you're so stupid!"

Kiyoomi reeled back in confusion. "Me? Why would you say that?"

"If you were any other girl, we'd be making out in a bathroom stall right now. But you're  _ you _ , and instead you let me do your makeup, and rub my back, and don't react  _ at all _ even though I'm wearing the sluttiest dress in the world, and you give me a  _ friendship _ necklace, as if it's not obvious how I feel about you!" Atsumu let out a strangled cry, and buried her face in her hands. 

Kiyoomi stared at her, bewildered. All this time she thought Atsumu was just being nice, just being a good friend. But it had always been more, to both of them. 

She lifted Atsumu's hands away from her face and looked earnestly into her wet, blurring eyes. 

"I don't really want to make out with you in a public restroom," she said at last. 

"You don't need to rub it in," Atsumu sniffed. 

"I'd take you on a nice date first. Dinner, or the beach. Then I'd walk you home, and ask to kiss you when we said goodbye on your doorstep." She paused, looking down. Her hands still held Atsumu's, and she squeezed them delicately. "At least, that's how I've been planning it," she admits. Atsumu shakes her head, and furrows her brow in confusion. 

"Omi-chan, what are you talking about?"

"You're even more stupid than me, you know that?" Kiyoomi brought Atsumu's hands up to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the tops of her knuckles. "I like you. Can I please, please be your girlfriend?" Atsumu sniffed again, but her eyes twinkled with happiness.

"Duh," Atsumu said with a giggle. A grin split across her face, flushed and exhilarated. Kiyoomi leaned in, catching her lips in a kiss. Atsumu gasped, and her tongue slipped into Kiyoomi's mouth. Her breath was stale and reeked of alcohol, but Kiyoomi found that she didn't really care. Not when Atsumu's lips were plush and smooth with their shared lipstick, and her hands cupped Kiyoomi's face on either side. 

They bid their teammates farewell and wished Hinata a happy birthday again. Judging by the six girls climbing over one another for Hinata's attention, though, Kiyoomi suspected they won't be missed. She even thought she recognized the setter from the Argentinean Olympic team, but it was probably just the poor lighting of the club. 

Kiyoomi directed them outside, taking a deep breath of the early morning air. Atsumu slipped her arm in Kiyoomi's and laid her head in the curve of Kiyoomi's neck. She sighed contentedly. 

Streetlamps cast a dim, moonlight glow onto the sidewalk beside them. The light caught in strands of Atsumu’s hair, and shined bright enough to burn.

**Author's Note:**

> this is lowkey based on how my ex gf and i got together LOLOLOL 
> 
> pls come talk to me on [twitter](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://twitter.com/cinnamonulove&ved=2ahUKEwis9rGg5f_uAhXzN30KHQMzAUkQjjgwAHoECAEQAg&usg=AOvVaw0RJCe4wqpxaQLL0t51Z1A4) abt sakuatsu :D


End file.
